


The Odd Ones

by sultrybutdamaged



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, Gossip, M/M, Minor Sam Gamgee/Rosie Cotton, Rumors, slight implied homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrybutdamaged/pseuds/sultrybutdamaged
Summary: There are plenty of rumors about Frodo and no one really means anything by them.  Sam still doesn't like it.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	The Odd Ones

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly different version of this fic was posted on Dreamwidth for Week 1 of the FFFC 10 Year Anniversary Fandom Battle.

“I heard it was about a lass.”It was a Bracegirdle talking this time.Sam scowled into his mug.

“What are you talkin’ about?”This far into the evening, the Gaffer’s voice was beginning to slur - not so much that Sam needed to worry about getting his father home, but enough that he seemed more bewildered than annoyed by the speculating going on at the table around them.

“Bilbo and a lass.”The Bracegirdle - Sam didn’t remember his name, Lumpy or something- leaned forward across the table, dropping his voice with a significant look.Sam glanced over his shoulder, but Frodo was caught up in whatever indecent show his cousins were performing for the crowd and didn’t see him.“One from out by the Old Took’s place, or maybe even outside the Shire, Bree or somesuch.”

Gentlehobbits could get away with a lot, Sam thought, watching as Pippin grabbed Merry by the waist and swung him around, dancing like a lad with his love right there in front of the whole crowd, but no one ever accused them of being improper.Not unless they had the name Baggins.His eyes drifted to Frodo at the edge of the stage, cheeks flushed and laughing.

“There never was no lass!”The Gaffer gestured wildly with his mug, nearly clocking Sam in the face in his enthusiasm to defend old Bilbo’s honor.“Master Bilbo never in his life looked twice at a lass.” Sam figured his father was too deep in his cups to realize what he was implying - though certainly the Bracegirdle noticed, by his raised eyebrows - but then the Gaffer added, “Nor no lad either.Bilbo wasn’t interested in all that.Just books and elves and such.” 

Sam winced; “books and elves” were far more scandalous in the Shire than any kind of romance could be.But the Bracegirdle didn’t jump on it.

“Maybe it was an elven lass,” suggested the other hobbit at the table, one of the Proudfoots.“What?” he added when the others gave him incredulous looks.“I’ve heard they’re great beauties, the elven ladies.And it would explain the fey looks of that one, and Bilbo being so eager to take him in.”He thumbed over his shoulder.

Sam couldn’t help himself from letting his eyes drift again to Frodo, light-footed and graceful as he danced beside his clumsier cousins.It was dim in the pub, though Rosie had lit the lanterns, but even in flickering firelight Frodo’s skin glowed and his face was bright and fine.

“Y’re off your rocker,” the Gaffer growled, whipping the cap off his head to slap at his friend.“We all know damn well where that lad came from and it weren’t from no lover of old Master Bilbo.‘Sides,” he added, belatedly, “Frodo’s a good lad.”

The Gaffer had never liked Frodo quite as much as he liked Bilbo, Sam knew. Oh, he knew Frodo was as good or more as his cousin had been, always generous with what he had and never expecting thanks for it, without even the grouchy manner Bilbo had worn in his later days.Frodo never had anything but a smile and a friendly word for anyone, excepting his more obnoxious relations, and though he was known to travel about with disreputable sorts like his cousins, he was never accused himself of anything worse than shabby dress or too much reading.There was nothing not to like about Frodo, and Sam was sure that was not just his personal feelings speaking.But the Gaffer had always been cautious about him in a way he never had been with old Bilbo, ever since the day that a tween Frodo had offered to teach Sam to read and Sam had come home gushing about the stories the older boy told.“Out of real books, Da!” he’d said, and the Gaffer had smiled uneasily and muttered about how of course young Master Frodo was very kind but there was no need to be bothering him for lessons, even though Sam had done no such thing.Frodo was the one who had taken an interest in _him_.

Sam hadn’t told his father as much about Frodo after that, but he’d continued to accept every invitation into Bag End until eventually Frodo had given him his own key.Sam hadn’t told his father that either.

“Frodo’s parents were respectable hobbits, for all their love of boats and look where it got them,” the Bracegirdle admitted reluctantly.“And perhaps Bilbo didn’t run off with a lass all those years ago, but it was odd then and it’s odd now.And oddness runs in families.” 

“Bah,” the Gaffer said, waving a hand, but he didn’t seem so enthusiastic in the cause any longer.He looked around, clearly hoping to catch the eye of a passing barmaid. 

The Proudfoot, though, picked up that line of thought.“Now I like young Frodo just fine,” he said; Sam recognized the _but_ coming.“But he’s getting up there in years, for all that he doesn’t look it.And for a lad who’s had his share of amorous attentions, it’s odd not to be thinking of the future and settling down.”

“He’s not so old,” Sam said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.The Gaffer wasn’t paying attention but the other two hobbits stared at him, like they’d forgotten he was there, until Sam could feel his cheeks turning red.“I just - I just mean that there’s no rush about such things, is there?”

“Perhaps not for an ordinary hobbit like yourself,” the Bracegirdle said in a belittling tone he might use if Sam was five years old.Sam resolved to call him Lumpy whether that was his name or not.“But if I had an oddness in my blood, I want to father children before it took me, now, wouldn’t I?So as to have someone to look out for me in my mad old days, like Frodo did for Bilbo before he up and disappeared.”

The Proodfoot nodded sagely.“Mistress Lobelia says - “

“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins just wants to take Frodo’s home out from under him!”That time even Sam knew he’d gone too far.

In the sudden silence that fell over the table, the Gaffer’s hand clamped down on Sam’s shoulder, making him start.“I think I’ve had enough for the e’ven, iffen you’ll excuse me,” he said.“Walk me out, will you, lad?”

“But, Da, I - “

“Walk me out, Samwise.”

The Gaffer was an easygoing hobbit, but Sam still knew a tone he couldn’t protest, so he got up and bid Lumpy and his friend a good evening with a mutter before following his father to the door.

“I wanted to stay,” he said mildly as they stepped out into the warm night.

“You can go back in,” the Gaffer said.“Jus’ wanted t’get you away from those old cogers ‘fore you threw the first fist.”

Sam laughed, startled.“I would never.”

“I dunno.You’re a gentle lad, Samwise, always have been, but I don’t doubt you’ve got a bit of fight in there.”The Gaffer gave him a surprisingly clear-eyed look.“Especially if it’s Master Frodo at stake.”

This time Sam could feel the flush spreading to the points of his ears.He ducked his head, hoping his father couldn’t tell out here in the darkness.“I just don’t like to hear people saying false things, about him or Master Bilbo,” he said.

“Aye, well.That’s good of you, I suppose.” The Gaffer didn’t sound at all certain that it was, but his hand was warm on Sam’s shoulder.“You’re a good lad,” he said again, then waved as he headed off down the road home, wavering only slightly in his path.

Sam thought about following him to make sure he didn’t trip or fall asleep by the side of the road, but then the sound of Frodo’s laugh cut through the noise coming from the pub door, and he turned around and went back inside.

***

“You’re in an odd mood, Sam,” Frodo said, hours later as they made their way back towards Bag End.

“Am I?”Frodo had his arm around Sam’s shoulders, the kind of mildly intoxicated gesture any friend might make.Sam thought his mood was perfectly fine, floating along on a sea of affection and pleasant drunkenness.

“You were,” Frodo clarified, after thinking about it for a minute.“Before, when I was dancing.I saw you.”

“I saw you too.”That was more than Sam would usually say, but the image of Frodo spinning around, his feet moving with such speed and precision, his eyes blue as jewels, was still stuck in his head.“A sight more, I suppose, you were.”

If Frodo thought there was anything odd about that, it didn’t show; he only laughed, shaking his dark curls out of his eyes.Sam had once heard Pippin’s mother say that Frodo was prettier than a lass and he thought it was true.And that was something, as Sam knew many very pretty lasses, but Frodo had an air to him that was almost unearthly. _Fey_ , the Proudfoot had said, but he said it like it was a bad thing.Sam thought if it was true Frodo looked like the elves then he wished he could see them.

“You seemed upset,” Frodo said.“When you were with the Gaffer and Lunk Bracegirdle and the rest.I didn’t like the look on your face.”He shook his head, expression solemn. “I don’t like when you’re sad, Sam,” he said, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was being teased or not, so he let that slide.

“Old Lumpy was babbling like a fool,” he said, and Frodo gave a peal of laughter and nearly toppled into a ditch.Sam had to grab his arm to steady him, and Frodo over-corrected and fell against his side. 

“Lumpy,” he wheezed, tears in his eyes.“I love it.We shall call him that, shall we?Just ourselves.”

“If it’s just ourselves,” Sam agreed, pretending he wasn’t reacting at all to Frodo pressed along the side of his body.

They stumbled down the road for several more minutes in near-silence, Frodo occasionally humming a few bars of one of Bilbo’s old walking songs before losing the thread and petering off.Sam thought maybe the conversation had been dropped, and they would just go back to Bag End like any night, and he would see to it that Frodo was safely behind his door before finding his own way home.But then Frodo said, “What did old Lumpy,” he gave an undignified snort, “have to say that upset you so?Was it about me?”

Sam hesitated.“Why would you think it was about you?”

“Come now, Sam.”Frodo turned his head, and because he was still leaning on Sam’s shoulder, his face was very close.“Isn’t it always about me when our neighbors get talking?”

“That’s not true, Master Frodo,” Sam said stoutly, though it absolutely was. “Sometimes it’s about Pippin’s latest foolishness.”

“You’re kind, Sam,” Frodo said.His voice had an odd, musing tone to it.“Tell me, since they think I’m so odd, and Bilbo was odd - do they think you odd too?Have we tainted you in their minds with our eccentric ways?”

Sam thought of his father’s face when he’d heard Frodo was teaching Sam to read, of all the disapproving looks whenever Sam spoke of Frodo more as a friend than an employer.The Gaffer had been fiercely loyal to Bilbo until the day he’d vanished, but there had been a wall between them that neither had been inclined to cross.Sam knew that wall between him and Frodo had always been full of holes. 

“They think I’m your loyal gardener.They don’t think of me at all more than that,” he said honestly.The others liked Sam and the Gaffer well enough, and appreciated their gossip, but Sam was sure they all thought them soft in the head for their affection for the Bagginses.

“Well, you are that,” Frodo said.“A wonderful gardener, the best in all the Shire - “

“Don’t tease, Master Frodo - “

“It’s the truth.And a loyal friend.”They were nearing the turn to Bag End, and Frodo pulled away from Sam’s shoulder.Sam told himself to be glad that Frodo wasn’t so drunk that he’d fall asleep before the fire and wake with a crick in his neck, rather than missing the warmth of him pressed close.“I just hope they don’t think ill of you because of me.I would hate that very much, Sam.”They reached the gate, and Frodo turned back, a slight frown marring his features.“Rosie seemed happy to see you tonight,” he said, and maybe Sam was in a mood after all, because he didn’t feel like pretending he was too simple to see what Frodo was implying.

“They were wondering why you don’t marry,” he blurted out, ignoring the mention of Rosie.Sam had loved Rosie from a distance for nearly as long as he could remember, and maybe if he were to make the effort he could draw her attention for longer than a single smile.He couldn’t say why he hadn’t done so, only that it felt, right at this moment, a part all of the same thing, of the rumors about Frodo and the way he’d looked dancing tonight and even the Gaffer’s insinuations about Master Bilbo not ever caring for lasses or lads. 

Frodo laughed, but Sam thought it sounded forced, like he wasn’t as surprised as he pretended to be.“Why should I?” he asked.An odd cast came over his face.“What fine hobbit would wish to tie herself to the madman of Bag End?”

Sam had seen that look on Frodo’s face more and more since Bilbo had vanished, and the strange thing was, he didn’t think Frodo understood what it meant any more than he did.It was as though some shadow had hung over Frodo’s life since that day, and Frodo himself was unaware of it.

Sam pushed those eerie thoughts, brought on no doubt by too much ale and talk of elves, aside.“Any would be honored,” he said.

Frodo gave him a gentle smile.“That’s kind, Sam,” he said.“But I don’t think it’s for me, you see.”His face brightened, impossibly fair in the moonlight.“I have all I need, don’t I?Bag End, my books.”He grasped Sam’s hand, sudden and strong.“Good friends.The best of friends.”

“Me too,” Sam said, then realized that made no sense.“I mean, I have what I wish.In… in my friends.”It was amazing that Frodo would even want to claim him as a friend, he thought, him sounding like such a fool and all, but Frodo gave a softer smile, and that gave Sam the courage to add, “Only I don’t like when they such things about you.Or Master Bilbo, but especially you.I don’t like it, and it makes me so angry, I - I - “

“Sam.”Frodo touched his face with a soft, cool hand; Sam’s voice died so abruptly he nearly choked.“My friend,” Frodo said.“Please, don’t be upset on my behalf.I know none of what they say is true - or, rather, that quite a lot of it is, and none of it matters in the least.The less absurd stories, anyway.”His eyes, which were again much closer than Sam was used to, twinkled bright blue.“Please do let me know if they come up with something new, though.I can always use a laugh.”

“They think you were Bilbo’s son, fathered on an elven lady,” Sam said, and was rewarded by another laugh like a thousand bells going off all at once.

“Oh my goodness,” Frodo said when he’d caught his breath, wiping at his streaming eyes.“Oh, Sam.Thank you for that.”He gave a last undignified giggle.“That made my night.”

“Pleased to help,” Sam said, and couldn’t help grinning himself.

Frodo’s laughter faded again into one of those smiles, just a little more intimate than usual for the darkness and the quiet of the night.They were at the gate now, and there was a look on Frodo’s face that made Sam wonder if he would invite him in, for tea and cake before the fire perhaps, and whether it would mean something different than it did in the daylight.But after a moment, Frodo shook his head, almost to himself, and said, “Good night, Sam.Get on home to your respectable family.We’ll welcome you back to the house of the madman in the morning.”

“I’ll be here first thing,” Sam said.“Your roses need trimming and the vegetable garden is a right mess.”

“Alright,” Frodo.“First thing, then.”His hand brushed Sam’s one last time before he turned up the path.“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Frodo,” Sam said to himself, and waited by the gate until he’d seen the door close, Frodo safely tucked away for the night, before making his own way home.


End file.
